Delivering Holotags
by flooj9235
Summary: After the events of the purifier, someone has holotags and bad news to deliver. Epilogue to Picking Up the Trail. Oneshot. Mentioned femslash.


AN: I promised y'all a little something, and here it is, the final part of the little Fallout series I was writing (Trouble on the Homefront and Picking Up the Trail). Thank you for sticking with me and for all the readers and reviews; it means a lot to me.

This is told from Sarah's point of view. Enjoy.

* * *

I look down at the dog tags in my hand, more than a little disgusted that I have to do this at all. It should have been me.

The metal walls of Megaton draw nearer and nearer as I walk toward them. I don't even know exactly who I'm looking for, much less what I'm going to say. This hasn't ever been something I'm good at, but she asked me to. After the sacrifice she made, I can't not do this for her.

My father had the tags printed up after the purifier was secure. We got the name from Dr. Li and I convinced the scribes to let me have the tags. I figure they'll be a nice way for her girlfriend to remember her. A fresh wave of both admiration and aggravation at her sacrifice sweeps over me, and I scowl at nothing in particular, picking up the pace toward the city.

A lone Protectron is guarding the gate, and it lets me in with a cheesy greeting. There's a few settlers milling around inside the gates, but none of them look very aware of what's going on, so asking them for directions is out. I'm about to just start knocking on doors when a man in a Regulator duster comes up the hill toward me.

"Welcome to Megaton," he says, taking note of the Brotherhood emblem on my recon armor. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for someone." I explain what happened briefly, only slightly surprised by the flash of upset on the man's face. It seems like most people I meet cared about the famed "Lone Wanderer."

"That girl did a lot for us," he says, giving a little shake of his head. "It's a real shame to see her go." The sheriff looks to the sky and tips his hat subtly.

I'm quiet, only slightly impatient through his little ritual, wanting to get the tags delivered and get out of what I know will be an uncomfortable situation.

"That shack up there was hers. Gave it to her for defusing that bomb in the middle of the city." He points out the little metal cabin on the edge of the crater. "A friend of hers took up living there a while back. Guess it's hers now."

"Thank you." This 'friend' has to be the girl I'm looking for, and I head off up the hill. I'm just about to knock on the door when what I'm about to have to say settles in. I hope she's not home, knocking on the door anyway.

A few moments pass, and then a young woman pulls the door open. There's mild irritation on her face, but it melts away when she sees me. If this is "Amata," she isn't what I imagined. "Yes?" she asks uncertainly, eyeing the Brotherhood symbol curiously, as if she doesn't know what it is.

"Are you Amata?" The sound of her name echoes around in my brain, and I hear it in _her_ voice. It makes me uncomfortable to say it.

Amata pales. "Yeah." Her voice is small. "What's going on?"

I smile at her, trying to make the expression gentle, though I feel sick inside, trying not to imagine the effect my news will have on her. "Can I come in?"

A few minutes later, we're sitting at a table inside. Amata is across from me, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Neither of us know what to say, so I finally break the silence, dreading what's coming.

"I'm sorry we have to meet like this. She wanted to me to tell you..."

Amata looks up at me sharply, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. "Tell me what?"

_She's dead._ The words are easier in my head, but I can't quite figure out how to say them. Instead of struggling, I just hand her the dog tags.

Amata takes them from me, looking at them uneasily. I watch as her eyes go to the name engraved on them. Her eyes fill with tears and she looks up at me in confusion.

I tell her what happened at the purifier, being as gentle as I can. Even so, the disbelief in her expression has turned to overwhelmed grief by the time I'm done speaking.

Amata looks down and traces the name on the tags, closing them in her fist and screwing her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry." My words are sincere, but barely have any effect on the girl in front of me. "I tried to stop her. I wanted to take her place."

Amata looks like she's about to yell at me, but she doesn't, just shaking her head.

I don't know what else to say. These sorts of conversations are harder than most battles. "Look..." I swallow, surprised at the size of the lump in my throat. "She was a big asset to the Brotherhood. If there's anything we can do..."

Amata buries her face in her hands and takes a few minutes to compose herself. When she looks up at me again, she's barely holding herself together. She tries to speak a few times, but can't quite make her voice work.

I reach over and rest my hand on hers comfortingly, noticing she still has the tags grasped tightly in her palm.

"Thank you," she manages after a moment. "Thank you for telling me."

I offer her another sympathetic smile, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. There isn't much to say, and we both sit there in a sorrowful silence.

I take my leave of the house a few minutes later, pretending I don't hear Amata bursting into tears the minute the door closes behind me. "God, I need a drink," I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.

The sick irony of the words hits me a few seconds later, and I make a beeline for the bar. A surprisingly polite ghoul is tending the bar, and I ask him for some of their finest, hoping it'll dull the pain and memories burning in my mind. He brings it to me quickly, shuffling away to give me some privacy after taking some caps as payment.

I swirl the alcohol around in my glass, letting out a heavy sigh. Despite all the memories of the purifier that haunt me, I can't help but be grateful for the sacrifice she made. It amazes me how selfless she was, giving her life to save the world, even knowing how much it would hurt Amata, the girl that she loved and that obviously loves her, too.

"Thanks, 101," I murmur, lifting the glass in her memory. "Steel be with you."


End file.
